No More Heroes: Purple Violence (The Rewrite)
by Golden Wind Requiem
Summary: Witness blood filled mayhem as Mineta Minoru, with Travis Touchdown at his side, tackles the UAA to become number one! *cough* Junior UAA *cough*
1. 1: The Guy With The Peculiar Motorcycle

**(A/N: This is a serious revision of the original first chapter and a dramatic overhaul of the basic nature of the story.)**

**No More Heroes: Purple Violence**

**Chapter 1: The Guy With The Peculiar Motorcycle**

* * *

Mineta Minoru. What to say other than 'Yuck'? Maybe 'Get away from me, creep!'

The bus itself he happened to find himself in was rundown and small on both the outside and inside. It was quite fitting.  
Mineta felt the same way, probably because he was also feeling ludicrously small, his school had just kicked him out.

The tolerance of the small pervert had run out from both his classmates and the teachers and the school faculty and the principal and All-Might and- You get the point.  
_Everyone _had a problem with him in some way or another. What had happened at the homecoming had been the last straw, and he was expelled from the school the next day.  
Perhaps it might have had something to do with the photos he took of Midnight. Good memories. It was a slap to the face, just how Mineta had been slapped around by his peers and family.  
She should've been looking around in the locker room when she decided to seduce one of the students she fancied. What was a boy to do with his camera and the locker he'd been thrown into?

A soft sigh escaped from the pervert's mouth. He leaned on the side of the bus, the purple, roughly orange-sized balls on his head nearly touching the window.

He peered out, and saw a red sign with white letters that said: **_"Welcome To Santa Destroy, The Town Known As Paradise!"_**

'Paradise?' Mineta asked himself wide-eyed, 'Sounds legit.'

The bus halted, and the driver grunted, "Last stop!"

It was ridiculous that even his own mother screamed for him to get out. Was it really worth it for her? The school expelled him and here he was, cheek still throbbing.

The train ticket came from cash he stole from her purse after the fight. That'll show her.

Mineta got up from his seat, grabbed his suitcase, and twinkle-toes-ed his way out of the vehicle screaming for no perfectly good reason. At least the driver shut up when he saw that.  
The boy wore a white shirt with a red star in the middle of it and an unzipped purple hoodie on top, along with blue shorts and shoes matching the color of the thin jacket.

He stood on the sidewalk as he scanned the area. The town was, like himself, pretty small. It had some stores and such, with other people walking or driving in their inconsiderate cars.

It was still daytime, and the sun hid itself with clouds that presented the bright blue sky a jumbled mess somehow.

Mineta decided to explore the town. The grape-haired boy, with suitcase in hand, strolled around the desolate town thinking to himself 'Paradise my ass.'  
He stopped for a minute, remembering something. Mineta reached for his pockets, and pulled out a small, purple iPod with white earphones.  
He placed the buds in his ears, and scanned through his playlist. He selected an album from a band called 'Gorillaz', and the sounds of radio signals flooded him.

He continued to walk as music played in his earphones, first a set of drums followed by distorted notes, then came singing:

_I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad._

_I got sunshine in a bag._

_I'm useless, but not for long._

_The future is coming on_

"Hope there's some hot babes here, otherwise this ain't no Paradise for me!" Mineta said to himself as he walked.

* * *

**Walking and walking, and more walking**

* * *

Mineta had stopped walking, and he sat on a bench near a park, eating a slice of pizza. The suitcase he carried with him was standing between his midget legs.  
The street in front of Mineta was packed with parked cars like a zoo of horny animals right on top of one another, and in between was a strange looking store.  
A brown colored cow's head was sticking out on a billboard with some words on the left:

**Beef Head**

**Video**

**DVD**

**Games**

**And more...**

The billboard itself did interest the boy, however, the thing that really gained his attention more was a peculiar looking motorcycle.  
It looked like it was pulled straight out of a Sci-Fi film, or the film "Akira", that red racer bike, or something close to it.  
It was big, white, had two huge exhaust pipes sticking out the back, a large wheel in the rear and a smaller one on the front.

"That's one cool bike," Mineta said as he rushed toward it an pressed face against the clear chrome, "Imagine all of the chicks he picked up with that!" He whimpered.

The boy imagined himself riding a bike like that with a wide grin, a beautiful woman sitting behind him, and her arms around him touching his . . . Well you know, down there.

Then, the door of the video store opened, bringing the boy out of his daydream. His head turned and he saw a man exiting the store right beside him carrying a plastic bag.  
He was Caucasian, with raven hair styled up like a stubby shark fin. He wore a red jacket and orange-lensed sunglasses. The grey shirt on his chest featured knockout girls from some anime.  
His jeans were dark blue and his nike sneakers were quite nice, almost brand new at this juncture, meanwhile his left hand wore a fingerless glove while his right hand went bare.

The man stuffed his bag into his pocket and knocked the boy off his feet as he walked by him, not even noticing as he boarded the motorcycle. Revving up, the boy sat up on his knees to say something.  
That was when the man sped off, and the wind of the steaming exhaust blew in the boy's mouth and thrust him a few feet backwards, and the man was out of Mineta's sight completely.

Stammering to his feet in awe, the boy's eyes grew large and watery, "Wow . . ." he whispered, "That guy must be so cool to have that bike."

Mineta zoned out for what must've been roughly five minutes watching the spot where the man disappeared, till he realized and darted his eyes to his wrist-watch.  
It was now seven-thirty pm, and night began to fall. The boy yelled as he realized it was far too late now, he needed to rush to find a place to stay.

He was a minor, he was strapped for cash, he didn't know anyone here, and he wasn't particularly bright.

'Shit!' he mentally swore as he started running around, 'Great job Minoru, you've just screwed yourself like always. No place to stay, no bike, no girls!'

He ran down one street, then another, then another, and came by the same shop again. He'd just run in a circle as he stopped and realized this mistake.

"Gah!" He yelled and dashed off again, running in different directions this time, not really paying any attention to where he was going anymore.

Suddenly, his face made contact with something, a _very _solid surface. He fell backwards and rubbed his reddened forehead as two boots stood in front of him imposing.  
He looked up and saw two men covered in black leather, spikes, chains and tattoos. The way they dressed screamed 'bad news,' and so his eyes widened and he immediately assumed a prayer position.

"Dah! Please scary men, I'm just passing through, I meant no offense _I swear_!" He said rapidly.

When he lifted his head back up, they were now only two of a large group of men similarly dressed and surrounding him, intent to move on their prey.

The man he'd smacked his face against stepped forward, standing tall and fierce, a major contrast to Mineta's small and meek build. He was tanned and had a full beard.  
A red cap lazily hung off the top of his head, covering his baldness. A black vest covered the man's tank top, the toned muscles on his arms exposed. A leering voice leaned forward.

"Eh, what's wrong with you kid, you lost?" The man asked.

"He got lost lookin' for his testosterone," answered one of the men behind the boy's shoulder.

Mineta gulped, feeling like a small animal in the jaws of madness.  
Out of desperation and pure instinct, he dropped his suitcase and grabbed for one of the purple balls on his head.  
With an audible pop, the ball came free, and he held it tightly in both of his hands.

"B-B-Back off," He sputtered, warning the big men, trying his hardest to not break down, "I-I'm warning you."

"Ah look, he's got his ball, he wants to play catch." Another man spoke to much laughter from the group.

The red capped man, "Really? Nice head-scrote kid, it won't save ya from what happens next."

"Heh," Another thug spoke, "That won't do ya jack shit, kid. You all alone out here on these streets."

"And besides," The tall man bearded man started off, cracking his knuckles, a sinister look in his narrowing eyes, "Killing little Quirkies like you is always a fun time."

Mineta wasted no time waiting to be attacked. He dropped the ball in his hand and sprinted for the streets, his legs blurring as he commenced with his fleeing. He got one foot away.  
The bearded man grabbed his entire head in his hand and lifted him up off the ground, Mineta's body reacting like slinky and bouncing up and down as through it were an accordion.  
A knee connected with his tiny gut, brute-forcing all the air of his lungs out of his mouth. Before he could react, he went flying off in the air far away thrown to a balled up fist breaking his nose.

He'd been tossed around like a ragdoll and when the force of one had finished he'd been punted to another then pummeled into the ground with a baseball bat.

The strike crushed his rib cage with a sickening crunch as he flew in sideways.

Mineta was roiling around on the concrete ground, his nose and mouth both leaking blood. Mineta held his midsection, desperately hoping the pain would go away.  
He tried to pick up his head, but a kick to the side of the face sent him rolling on his other side. The boy spat out a tooth with some blood, quivering as the men circled him.

They laughed in his ear as their leader continued to mock the boy without a care in the world, preparing a second baseball swing. Killing Quirkies had been a major source of entertainment here.

They simply enjoyed taking lives and pushing around those beneath them, or perhaps those they felt inferior to. Either way they hated everyone, no one was safe.  
It was a matter of simple entertainment in this area of town, to the point none of them really understood the boundaries of sanity anymore, breaking apart anyone they felt like.  
The leader stood over him and pulled out a boxcutter from his empty back pocket. Pushing his thumb forward, the blade popped out.

"I pray you find your mind wherever you left it, boy." He growled and came in for the kill.

Mineta, torn and bloodied, simply closed his eyes. He had it coming, he knew that much. All the women he'd disrespected, all the people he'd somehow managed to piss off in one way or another.  
To die for his perverted ways meant perhaps penance and relief to all those he'd ran afoul of, his mother, father, Hanta Sero, All Might, Izuku- the list went on. The end to a perfect day.  
The blade circled nearer and to his eye, the bloodthirsty psychopath in his face grinning madly as put the weapon to the test and dragged it across the boy's cheek. The end was closer now.

But that end never came.

"_Hey!_" A cool voice called out.

The leader was stopped dead in his tracks. He turned his head with the others and held the weapon farther from the boy's face as he looked to see the interruption.  
What sight they saw bewildered them, or so Mineta understood from their confused looks and honestly clueless reactions to the man who'd stepped in on his behalf.  
Mineta, held up by his shirt in the leader's thuggish hand, let his face fall to the left so he could see past his attackers and saw the person that called out.  
His swollen eyes widened dramatically as he saw who it was, the identity of his apparent savior. It was that guy he saw a while ago, the guy with the peculiar motorcycle.

"What the fuck do _you_ want?" The bald leader said to the intruder.

The new challenger was wearing the same ensemble as earlier, red jacket and all, and stood in opposition to the thugs, his steps slow but confidant as his eyes glared behind his sunglasses.

"Depends. What are you willing to lose?" The man replied.

Immediately, the other gang members fully armed themselves with their melee weapons of choice, some wielding hammers, other metal pipes.

"Get outta here man, this is between us and the kid," The leader replied, "This ain't got nothin' to do with you yet."

"It's got everything to do with me. You harass the boy, you deal with me." The man said.

"My hero . . ." The boy mumbled bubbly through bloody teeth.

The gangster grumbled and smacked the boy backward into the concrete, sending the boy's back into orbit as he flicked blood off the boxcutter and stood.  
The leader left Mineta and strolled towards the stranger with a cocky smile, passing by his allies to come to lead them against the lone insane stranger.

"Well, guess we got a discount hero on our hands here, boys," The leader said teasingly as his eyes locked onto their target, "Another no-name beggar thinks he can fuck with us."

"I don't think I can," the person in the red jacket smirked, "_I know I will_."

The bald leader sneered, and without hesitation, he lunged at the annoying bastard weapon in hand aimed at his throat.

* * *

_**Then . . .**_

_**Briiiiiiis- Sn**__**ap!**_

* * *

The leader took a few steps onward, slowing down as he came to stand still, the untouched boxcutter clutched in hand.  
Everything was still for a moment, the only being the hum of the man's glowing blade. And then the man's head fell off.

It slid from his neck finely, no friction stopping it whatsoever, and blood burst from the stump, spraying in a gorge directly over the man's head and the ground in front of him.  
Drops of blood smeared across his gang's horrified faces and the head landed with a thud, its final expression one of shock. Travis stood still as he glared at the other's in front of him.  
The headless corpse collapsed into a dead heap, with blood running down across the streets, and the boxcutter also slid apart, sliced in two by the stranger.

Held at his side casually was a lightsaber- er, Beam Katana rather. A blue light glowed from a white cylindrical tube and met a metal receiver that capped the energy in place.

"So . . . Who's next?" He asked casually.

The other members were shaken, with one now leaving a wet spot on the ground that lead up to a giant stain on his pants. They immediately fled the scene.

"Don't come back, you god damn cowards," The man in red shouted, "And next time, pick on someone your own size!"

The man said, shutting the lightsab- Beam Katana closed. He stood around almost waiting for a crowd of people to applaud him, but as it turned out, nobody cared.  
The boy choked on the ground and struggled to remain conscious as he saw the dead body and stared wide-eyed. Did that guy just kill someone? And with a lightsa- Beam Katana?  
After it was fully turned off, the man clipped the weapon to his belt and walked over towards Mineta to see if the boy was alright.

Squatting down, he rested his arms on bent knees and held hand out for the kid, "You good, kid?"

"Hah? Oh- Owaaa!" The boy balled in an over-the-top fashion and held the man's hand with both of his tiny excuses for paws.

He was bowing over and over, then remembered how fractured his bones were, and blood gushed from his mouth as he played dead.

"Jesus Christ!" The man said, taken aback, "Do you do that to everyone?"

"Yes." The boy replied vacantly, his eyes thin and warbly.

The man noticed the boy was covered in blood and was rather just sitting there soaking in it.  
That's just unhygienic. So the man resolved he would go to work to fix up this poor testicle-headed boy.

The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a wad of Wendy's napkin, "Ah, here clean yourself up."

Mineta took them gleefully and thanked the man. It wasn't much, but they'd do. An awkward silence fell on them as the two just sort of stared at each other.

"So," the man finally spoke up, "What's a kid like you doing out here, your parents out of town?"

"My parents disowned me." The boy said.

"Oh." He replied, "That sucks. So you're out here alone?"

"Me? No, you're never alone during a beating!" The boy struck an enthusiastic face as blood sprayed from his nose again like a jet.

"Uh, you're losing quite a bit of blood there kid, we should get you to a hospital."

Mineta stood there, the statement repeated in his head. Tears began to swell in his eyes as he shook his head. The man looked around and saw the boy's scattered suitcase.  
Ah jeez, this kid must've had a pretty rough break recently. He knew the boy needed medical attention, but was unsure if the hospital nearby would take in a quirkie.

"Can you move okay?"

Mineta nodded as rivers of teardrops fell down his face, his big eyes glowing with adoration and sadness. He had left everyone behind, all because of his inherently unpleasant nature.  
Maybe that was a jewish thing. He didn't really get it. His name was Japanese, he spoke and preferred english, and he wobbled and whined like a pervy six year old. His mom had a menorah.  
So many contradictions, so much unpacked idiocy, he was about as ill-informed as the rest of the human population minus some apish habits.

"Alright," The man tried to comfort the boy, "Let's get you to the hospital and see what they can do for ya, maybe fix that nose and reset those ribs."

The boy just nodded. He needed to leave. He didn't want to see the dead body anymore.  
He took the gloved hand and walked with the man towards his cycle, the man grabbing the boy's suitcase.

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner." The man said as he managed to gingerly lead the boy to his bike. Carefully taking their seats, the man revved the motor to life.

"By the way," The man commented as he prepared to drive, "What's your name."

The boy answered back, "M-Mineta. Mineta Minoru. What's-"

Without a word, the motorcycle sped off from it's sitting position to roughly sixty-five miles per hour, screeching tires and raging fuel burning the vehicle forward.  
The boy barely had time to let out the intense 'eeeeeck!' that typified his terror and suited his subsequent velocity, the boy flying through the air cling to the man's jacket for dear life.  
Screaming constantly, the boy begged the man to slow down as he barely managed to hang on, multiple women watching on the sidelines as they tore through town towards the ER.

"Gotcha, well I'm Travis," The man introduced himself yelling, "Travis Touchdown!"

* * *

**To Be Continued . . .**


	2. Feel The Broken Ribs

**Chapter Two: Feel The Broken Ribs**

* * *

_'Man, this is not what I planned on doing tonight,' _Travis thought as he sat patiently on a chair at Santa Destroy General Hospital. Funny, he'd never been here before now. Given all the shit he's been through with all the injuries he had ever suffered, he'd thought he'd've been to this place at least once before, but no. Not one time. Nada. Nay-nay. Maybe it was an ecumenical thing, not that he even knew what that word meant, because right now he was thinking it was a synonym for either insurance or salami. Pizza sounded pretty good to him right then and there.

Well anyway, he'd rushed to the hospital, where he almost killed the small testicle-haired boy Mineta though the teenager wasn't in perfect condition to begin with.

Travis brought the boy into the ER, waiting here for nearly two or three hours, and yet no word came. Nothing. Nada. Nay-nay. What the hell was going on?

Finally, a middle aged Asian, probably in his early fifties, with stark black hair in green scrubs pushed the door open, clipboard in hand. Perhaps he was a doctor.

His eyes quickly saw Travis and he spoked: "Ah, you must be the man who brought the boy? I'm Doctor Suda."

"Yep, guilty," Travis said as he got up from his chair, "How's the kid? Is he gonna be okay?" He asked the doctor.

"Welp, the good news is he's alive. Follow me, I'll take you to him," The doctor said, and the two traveled through the halls of the hospital, trying to avoid other doctors with their patients. "The boy, Minoru, he's lost a large amount of blood, along with a broken nose, eight fractured ribs, a laceration on the cheek, and plenty of minor injuries; If you'd brought him in any later, his chances of surviving would've been considerably diminished."

Doctor Suda looked through the papers on the clipboard, "He's a survivor, that's for sure, even for a person with a quirk."

"Huh, I guess so, I'm sorry did you say he had a quirk?" Travis didn't doubt the last part of that sentence, but the first confused him.

"Yes," The doctor commented casually, "Why do you think he's got grape-balls growing on his head?"

"Thought it was a skin condition to be honest." Travis had a feeling that the boy was very familiar with punishment, like he was almost a pain-sponge, "So, what do they do?"

"They're sticky." The doctor said as they walked along.

"Uh-huh . . ." The man said, looking weirded out at the doctor through his shades.

"He's located at the west wing, that's where all of the other children are stationed since we don't have an official kiddy wing. That poor five year old." The doctor said.

Travis, at first, nodded.

Then came the realization that what the doctor said was off, "Uh, wait a second. Five year old? Sorry doc, but that boy's a teenager."

Suda stopped, and stared at Travis in shock, _"He isn't a toddler?_

* * *

**_Meanwhile at the west wing of Santa Destroy General Hospital_**

* * *

Minoru Mineta was probably in the worst state possible in all his small-figured life. He had some experiences: The peephole incident, bad memories, his eye still hurt.

The cheerleader outfit snafu, good memories on that one. Then there was the hot-springs fiasco, a reminder to swear vengeance on that boy with red cap, but _this?_ This definitely tops the entire cake. But, there was salt in the wounds when he was placed in the children's wing, of all places. He could take the colorful paint and the kids whining from other rooms, but the batman cast around his ribs connected to his arms and neck for support with clown-doctors coming in to give him his cheerful diagnoses was a step too far in his estimation. A few hours, a few painkillers, some subhuman treatment from the doctors, he was right as rain. Rain if it had broken ribs, a broken nose, and several stitches in it's cheek.

The boy had been set in a near-full body cast, and for now he couldn't feel anything except his dignity slowly fading away, if he had any left. It was safe to say that everything sucked for him.

But that soon faded with the entrance of curvy redhead nurse _Jenna. _Ooh did she look fine. In the words of a certain trickster: "_Nnnnice~!"_

The nurse was in the middle of feeding him some tomato soup, generously leaning over to show him dem delicious D-cups, when the doctor that operated on him stepped inside, Travis in tow.

Mineta's already upbeat attitude doubled, "Travis!" He cheerfully said, his mouthful of soup falling out of his mouth onto his hospital gown.

"Sup kid," Travis greeted back with a smirk, "Are you feeling good?"

Touchdown approached the bed and he and the nurse exchanged looks, winking at one another. She was a bigger-boned lady, though just that much more curvy.

"Nothing painkillers can't fix." Mineta said as he took another spoonful of soup.

"Well," Travis came to stand next to bed, and put his hand on Mineta's casted-shoulder, "I'm glad to hear-"

A pain shot up like a hot iron through Mineta's wrenched shoulder, and the boy compulsively spit the soup out of his mouth in a shotgun spray across Travis's face.

The man in the red jacket just stood here, with a motionless face, finishing his sentence, "-That."

He wiped the red juice from his face and tried his best to just ignore it had even happened.

Doctor Suda finally spoke after the awkward pause, "Well, I have some good news and bad news! The good news is that the boy is going to make a quick recovery, and that's thanks to nurse Jenna and her quirk! He'll be back to one hundred percent in about three to four weeks!"

Travis and Mineta both shared a sigh of relief, but Suda continued, "But the bad news is that you have to take him home with you."

"_Say what?" _Travis said, the announcement proved enough of a shock to cause Mineta to twitch, disturbing his rib cage, and he sprayed more soup out onto Travis's face.

Travis stood there again and rolled his tongue against his teeth in discontent. He wiped his face, and trudged towards the doctor.

"Would you mind repeating that? You want me to take the kid? _Are you sure_? I don't really do the parent thing, y'know, perhaps he can just stay here and recover, huh?"

Suda smirked, "Well of course you don't, but he's a minor, we don't have the legal right to hold him here without releasing him to a legal guardian. Killing people works wonders for you anyway, right?"

That was a sore spot. Travis gritted his teeth, and balled his hands near to the point of bleeding. Killing _did_ work for him, until that French bitch took all of his money and ditched him . . . _again. _Suda had pushed the Sylvia button. You don't push the Sylvia button.

"I'm sorry, but if you refuse to take the boy, he'll just be placed into foster care."

Mineta's eyes widen in horror at the thought of being placed into the foster system with god knows what people.  
What if they knew about him being in UA? His mind couldn't handle all of the thoughts at once in his head.  
Oy gevalt, did that mean he'd have to go into a special foster system for quirkies? Shit, this is just all kinds of bad luck.

Travis felt a tug on his jacket.

"P-P-Please don't let me go!" Mineta started to cry again, pleading to the man, "I'm begging you! Please!"

Travis looked into the boy's eyes, tears shooting out like a faucet. Those eyes . . . They reminded him of those sad puppy dog's . . . Well in his case, sad kitten eyes. Like his kitten, Jeanne. She would do that if she did something bad when-

'_No! Don't let him win, Don't let him win,' _Travis chanted in his head, eyes still gazing on Mineta, "_Don't let him . . . Don't . . .'_

Finally, Travis gave up, and sighed, "Jeez, fine! I'll take him!"

Mineta felt himself smiling with relief and delight, even with him bursting into tears of happiness, "THANK-YOU-THANK-YOU-THANKYOU-THANKYOU-THANKYOU-"

"Okay! _Okay_, kid, i got it, you're grateful!" Travis said, and Mineta quieted down. The man approached the boy one last time, and accidentally clipped his foot.

Mineta felt tickled and it caused an odd inhalation just before he coughed out a massive blob of congealed blood. Travis glared wide-eyed as the blob hit him straight in the forehead. He sat there unmoving, the nurse putting her hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing, at the same time also a little grossed out at how large the blob was. Travis let out a single sigh and grabbed a towel handed to him by Suda, and he wiped it off his face with a growl.

"I'm gonna hate that." The man said.

Nurse Jenna looked at him rather lustfully, smiling at him. He chuckled to himself . . . guess it wasn't all that bad.

* * *

**_Three Weeks Later . . ._**

* * *

"Here we are kid," Travis said as they both arrived at a motel. The building itself appeared to be quite old, dating as far back to at least the 1950's and two sets of floors were layered by a balcony. The walls were yellow, and some windows were lit while others weren't. The words, 'NO MORE HEROES' were displayed on top of the motel as a large billboard. Why? That was anyone's guess. It's like it was the name of a video game or something, but that was preposterous, a thought quickly shot down in his mind.

Not that the game wouldn't be really good or something.

Having parked his motorcycle in the motel's small parking lot, Travis headed upstairs past all the other rooms. Mineta's short stubby legs struggled to keep up, the boy holding onto the flight's rails. He turned and kept walking off to the far left where he saw Travis waiting, and then there it was, a light-blue door. It stood there so strongly, like the sky itself personified the barrier to entry. He didn't why he was focusing on it either, it was just such a pleasant color.

Travis dug into his pocket and produced a set of keys, all on a keychain, with what appeared to be a small anime girl in a very revealing outfit as bling.

After fiddling about with the keys, he found the right one. It was a bronze key with a square head.

He slid the thing into the door's lock, and twisted it to the right, as you do. A sharp click was followed by the door creaking open.

"Home sweet home," Travis pronounced as he pushed the door open, revealing the inside of his home to the fun-sized purple boy . . . He really still couldn't believe someone matching that description existed. The home looked, well, Otaku'ed out, there was no better way to describe it. There were figurines of girls in the same outfit as the one on Travis's keychain, displayed on a green shelf, with a grey couch a few feet away from it. In the midst of the living room stood a small red recliner facing a small television set with a digital versatile disc player and a strange looking game console. A row of different colored masks were nailed on beige walls, arranged in a pattern to lead your eyes to another room. On the left side of the room, a bedroom was shown by an open door. A positively huge figurine of a Gundam mobile suit was placed in the corner, its lifeless eyes glared at a mini fridge that contained no healthy items and might as well have been thrown out in a dumpster.

Mineta entered the room, his eyes scanning around it. He hadn't expected Travis to be, well, a man of culture.

"Your stuff's in my room," Travis said. "It's getting late. Might as well plan on getting some shut eye."

Mineta went to Travis's room and pulled out a pair of pajamas from the suitcase, and decidedly took a shower, the lukewarm water rained down pelting his small body like a barrage of boxer's fists. He came out of there with a bloody nose and what felt like two re-fractured ribs, though he knew this not to be the case. Afterwards, he dried with a towel, and dressed up. Soon, he finally laid down of the small grey couch in the outside room.

Travis walked in and noticed the boy seemed drained.

"Yo, I hope you didn't use the shower, the faucet's broken so it kinda tends to just hammer you." The man remarked.

"Uh-huh, thanks for the tip." The young boy said emotionless staring at the wall.

"All right, well, see ya tomorrow." He said before turning to go turn off the lights.

"Wait," Mineta said, stopping Travis. The Otaku looked at the boy. "You have a very cute cat."

"Jeane? Thanks. She's a good girl, been around here for a long, long while. And boy, does she likes company." Travis stated, and he turned off the lights.

Mineta had to give the guy props, this couch was really comfy. That's about it.

* * *

_**Meanwhile**_

* * *

In an office

A petite, slender woman sat at a desk, a phone in hand. Her pale, white skin stood a contrast to the black, tight dress she wore. The fan in the office blew lightly, blowing the woman's long platinum blonde hair freely. She spoke in a heavy French accent as she talked to the person on the phone.

"Izzit ready?" The woman asked.

"Yes. The Junior League of the UAA will start soon alongside the re-opened original. Do you have a person to represent you for the Ranked fights?" The person asked.

Sylvia just smirked, "Oh, I'll find zomeone."

* * *

_**To Be Continued . . .**_


End file.
